Tag Archives: sex

Last Saturday, as we were driving to the Cheshire Ice Cream Farm (which I can thoroughly recommend), Ollie suddenly blurted out from the back seat: “I have a question….”

Ollie is a naturally inquisitive child, so this was nothing new to us, but his questions are usually rather mundane, and don’t require a great deal of thought before answering. Questions like:

What day is it?

Can we go to Pizza Hut?

What’s that smell?

More often than not, his queries can be answered with one or two words, and the entire process takes no more than a few seconds. He is, after all, only seven, and whilst he is a very bright and intuitive seven-year-old, he still asks seven-year-old type questions.

Until last Saturday.

As a parent, there are three questions (or genres of question), which I am dreading hearing from my children, and I hadn’t expected to have to deal with any of them so soon.

The first, is about the meaning of life, death, and the existence of God. Whilst I would struggle to know where to start with this line of interrogation, it is at least a topic where my wife and I could try to answer together, as a team. And, by that, I mean she can answer, and I’ll just nod silently in the background.

The second question, is: “Daddy, why are Stockport County so rubbish?” Now, I would not require any assistance from my wife to answer this question (in fact, I would actively discourage her participation), and could happily sit Ollie down for an hour or four, to explain our football team’s current predicament (and who is to blame); but I would be far more concerned about what prompted such questioning, and the potential repercussions of my answer.

My worry would be why he was asking this question, and whether it was indicative of him growing weary of supporting County. Hopefully, though, with a carefully focused response, an optimistic outlook for the future, and a repeated warning that if he ever chooses to follow one of the Manchester clubs instead, I’ll personally pack his bags within the hour, I can nip any doubts firmly in the bud.

The third question, and the one I fear the most from my son(s), is the very question he chose to ask us last Saturday, completely out of the blue:

“How are babies made?”

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The thing is, I know perfectly well how to answer that question (I have, after all, played a minor part in making two babies now), but I find discussing the topic uncomfortable at the best of times, and especially with my seven-year-old son.

Back when my wife and I were still happy (around 2BC – Before Children), the subject of ‘where do babies come from?’ had cropped up in conversation. Not in the sense that I required an explanation, but more in terms of who would be best explaining sex to our children at the appropriate time.

We (and, by that, I mean my wife) decided that we should stick to our respective genders – she would explain how babies are made to any daughters we might have, and I would be responsible for any boys. I naively agreed, believing my chances to be roughly 50/50 (I have a basic knowledge of genetics), and of course we ended up with two sons. To this day, I swear my wife can only produce boy babies, and knew all along.

Anyway, I am now responsible for explaining procreation to our sons, and I accept this, I just didn’t think I would have to have ‘that’ conversation so soon.

Unfortunately, Ollie asking the question at such a young age, took me completely by surprise, and I rather fumbled my answer. In the end, I told him we would have a proper chat when it was more appropriate (in my defence, the sat nav was making a complete arse of finding the Cheshire Ice Cream Farm at the time).

Thankfully, he accepted the postponement, and hasn’t asked me again since. But, now the issue is on his mind, it’s only a matter of time before he asks again, so I need to prepare myself (with notes, diagrams, and perhaps even a PowerPoint presentation) sooner rather than later.

The thing is, I have no intention of ever lying to him (apart from, you know, the obvious ones about Father Christmas, the Tooth Fairy, and where all his Easter eggs went), but there are certain aspects of conception which he doesn’t need to know at this stage, so I might keep my explanation to the basics. Even then, I get embarrassed very easily, so I will probably find the conversation more uncomfortable than he will.

In fact, I find talking about any delicate issues extremely difficult, and I cannot be as matter-of-fact as some people when discussing sex. So, with that in mind, I have decided to explain to Ollie where babies come from, in the only way I know how – through the medium of song….